Happily Ever After
by Elly Green
Summary: How Season 2 should have ended. No explicit sex, but lots and lots implied. You have been warned. Chloe/Jackson, Dariela/Abe, and Jamie/Mitch.


**DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.**

Jackson held her face in his hands. She was aglow, a sheen of sweat making the blush of her cheeks just shine in the dim light of the single candle burning on the bedside table. He wiped the sweat from her cheeks with his fingers. He had never been so happy. Settled above him, resting across his hips, draped in the sheet, she was an angel. Her blonde hair fell in a cascade around her head, the ends tickling his collarbone. Her head was bowed. She looked at him from under her long lashes. She echoed his joy in her smile. He stretched up to capture her soft pink lips with his. The kiss was a gentle reminder of what they'd shared.

"You scared me." Her voice, the French accent a bit heavier with her exhaustion, made him frown. "So much anger."

"I know." He hadn't meant to scare her. If he'd been himself, he definitely wouldn't have. But just saying the mutation made him do it was a poor excuse. Even if it was true. It was his father's fault. The injection he'd thought would save him and his mother. Instead, turning them both into monsters.

"C'est la vie," she answered. It was purposefully flippant. He let it pass. They had time to talk later. To get it all out. Now was the time to celebrate.

"It's all over." He stroked her cheek, claiming her mouth for another kiss. His thumb traced the curve of her chin. The other swirled over her temple, brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

Letting her arms fold, hands splayed across his chest, Chloe collapsed on top of him, tucking her head under his chin. He could feel her heart beating against his. Her breath whispered over his flesh. Warm and cool.

His palm roamed over her back. Traced up and down her spine. He felt her skin shiver and shudder under his soft, ticklish touch.

He just couldn't. He shoved against the words wanting so bad to be said. There was so much wrong with his life. Chloe was the only beacon of light. Still, he towed her under with him as he dredged it all back up. "He said the animals would one day get the planet back. That the world would once again be in balance. That the wild would inherit the earth."

"Oui." Her soft sigh was muffled against his collarbone. She sounded tired.

"I can't believe he actually sterilized the human race." Unable to stop himself, he growled. He wished she would tell him to shut up.

As though she could read his mind, Chloe shifted, stifling a yawn, pulling her elbows up to rest her arms on his chest, and look him in the face. "We fixed the animals, Jackson. We can fix this, too. All of us. Together. Now, be quiet. Sleep." She held his gaze until he groaned. Such hope. Despite everything that had happened to them, between them, she still believed in him. It was an enlightening realization. She believed in him. Them. If he hadn't loved her before, he loved her more right this instant. Hope was a powerful motivator.

"Okay." He smiled. Perhaps she was right. God, he hoped she was.

Rolling her to the side, he flipped their positions and settled atop her, his weight balanced on his folded arms.

"De nouveau? We should sleep." She winked, then shimmied under him, the sheet loosening. Flawless pale skin beckoned the graze of his eyes and fingers. She was grinning. Wickedly. Her tongue sneaked from between her lips and tempted him.

Lowering his mouth over hers, he slid to the side, tipping her to face him. His hand stroked over her flesh. She moaned, arching her back at his touch. He cupped a breast, teased it, then swept his palm lower. Resting it, fingers spread, over the slight bump of her stomach, he sighed.

He hated his father.

One day, he would have loved to see Chloe with his child. Belly round, an angelic glow about her, flushed with excitement, with new life. She would have been a great mother. Their son or daughter would have been beautiful, with her blonde hair and his crooked grin. Tall, like her, strong like him. Oh, and so smart!

Now, he would never know. They would never know.

He pulled back from the kiss. A tear caught in the corner of his eye. He moved to wipe it away. The touch of her soft hand stopped him. He looked at her. She, too, was weeping.

"Moi, aussi," she whispered. Her hand left his cheek to settle beside his on her stomach. He lost it. Hugging her tight, they cried into each other's shoulder.

Despite words. Despite wishes. Despite the hope. Fear and failure loomed large. Neither of them could forget it. It would haunt them until they died. The burden of leadership fell squarely between them.

* * *

Abe thrust Dariela up against the wall, gripping her hips hard, holding her in place. They stared at each other, face to face. Neither broke first. As long as he could hold out, so could she. His voice dropped an octave as he offered a threat. A threat she had every intention of making a reality.

"We can't do this. The others will hear."

"I plan on it."

"What about the baby?"

"Got the okay from the doc," she snarked back, smirking at him. He grunted. Doctor Morgan had given her the go ahead - though that look he'd given her when she'd cornered him to ask had been absolutely priceless. A bit of fun was okay, he'd told her. It was still early in the pregnancy. No risk of harm.

"You told him you were planning to force me into…"

"Screwing me?" Her smirk widened into a wicked, naughty grin. "Yup. Though I think I used the word 'seduce'."

She wasn't some China doll. The sooner Abe realized it, the happier their life would be. She didn't just plan to have him tonight. She planned on having Abe beside her for the rest of her life.

It hurt to admit it, but she needed him. They had survived. Despite the odds. In truth, she had been worried. Not for herself, she was absolutely that good with a weapon. However, the others? They were lucky. Including Abe. He had a history, knew how to fight, how to defend himself, but he was weak. He made sacrifices. Especially for his friends. It wasn't enough anymore for him to protect, he needed to win. He had a family now.

That final battle had been close. They were wildly outnumbered against the hybrids. She hated to consider the consequences had Logan not been the one with the plan. He'd surprised her. He hadn't seemed all that smart the few times they'd talked. Though, and she knew it better than most, there were smarts and street smarts. Turned out the boy knew some serious dirty fighting tactics.

She'd given him props for that last idea. Setting fire to the jungle. A bold move.

It had worked. They made it to the plane safely, made it back to Maine to save Clementine, and were once again airborne.

She hadn't wanted to know where they were heading. It didn't matter. The man before her mattered. Their child mattered. The rest of the world could go to hell again for all she cared.

Still grinning maniacally at him, daring him to deny her, she cocked her head, dropping her hands to rub at the bulge in the front of his jeans.

"You are crazy," he leaned close to whisper harshly in her ear. "Insane."

Dariela didn't answer. She didn't need to. She knew she'd won. She saw it in his eyes, in the flaring of his nostrils, the quickening of his heartbeat. She felt it in the strength of his grip.

Abe released her to slide down his chest. He spun her around and backed her into the small bed. When her knees hit the edge of the mattress, she let them buckle and sat down. He towered over her. She wasn't scared. She was elated. She needed him.

Their gazes locked, he began to undress. So slowly, so tantalizingly. The urge to kick him into action or, better, to take matters into her own hands was hard to deny. Chewing on her inner lip, she fought the desire to speed things up. But, her eyes shot daggers. He ignored her.

Finally, bare to her wandering sight, he crouched low to kneel between her spread thighs. The first touch of his large hands on her flesh had her whimpering in anticipation. She was ready for him. His hands removed each piece of clothing carefully, folding them and setting them aside on the desk in the corner. She ground her teeth as he unbuttoned her jeans and eased them off. Only her panties remained. She was going to die if he didn't move it along.

"Patience, Ranger," he teased. At last, he shifted above her, pushing her back to the cool sheets. She hissed at the contact. Her skin was aflame.

He slipped lower down the bed, holding her eyes with his. Now it was his turn to taunt, to tease, to dare. Dariela's eyes closed, she held her breath. She was wound tight, ready to snap. And then she did, screaming with the release.

He froze at the sound. "Shhh. Quiet. Clem-" he warned.

"Got it covered, bubble bath. Mom-to-be, remember?" she teased between panting breaths. "Back to business," she added, ordering him to keep going. The night was still young.

* * *

"Do you think she heard that?" Jamie asked Mitch, stretched atop him as she was. They were both still clothed, though his flannel was on the floor, his tee shirt bunched up around his ribs, her pants unbuttoned and lower back also exposed, his fingers working diligently at the clasp of her bra. She wasn't sure if he was stumped or stalling. He'd been busy back there for a while. Seemed the professor was a bit unprepared for class.

She was giggling under her breath as she asked, trying her best to sound concerned, though what she really wanted to do was bust out laughing. The rhythmic squeaking of the poorly supported mattress and the ever increasing speed of the deep grunts of exertion the two of them could hear so clearly through the thin wall were the least of their worries as it turned out. That final scream of ecstasy was a dead giveaway to what was going on in the other bedroom.

Jamie held out hope they would soon be having just as much fun. They'd spent enough time already denying themselves what both knew, deep in their hearts, was inevitable. From that first moment, met over a pile of lion dung, to now. Somewhere along the line between taking down Reiden Global and saving the world's animals, they had fallen for each other. As bizarre a match as they were.

"Oh, God," Mitch replied, blinking back into reality. His eyes remained unfocused, his glasses tossed somewhere on the other side of the room. Jamie was thrilled to her toes she'd had him panting for breath, lost in her fervent kisses. That first time a year ago had done nothing except kindle a fire she'd desperately needed to let burn. No matter how much she had tried to push him away. "Her mother would kill me." He stared at her cross-eyed, rubbing one hand across his face and scratching at the stubble on his cheeks and chin. The few-days-old stubble she loved. "Do eleven-year-olds even know about sex?" he whispered the last word, suddenly sober, his eyes drilling into hers, begging her to lie to him.

She couldn't hold it in any longer. She erupted, filling the small space with her mirth. "Yup. Every sordid detail I imagine." Jamie winked at his crestfallen face. "The Internet and its wonders."

He shoved her up and off his chest, rolling her to the side so he could sit up. He grabbed blindly for the tumbler of vodka sitting on the desk beside the bed. Downing a big gulp with a grimace, he continued. "Maybe I should go next door and just check. Tell her-"

"What? That it was nothing? A bird hit the plane? An animal got loose?" She took the tumbler from his hand, wrapping her fingers around the cool glass. She finished off the drink with a quick tip back. Jamie slammed the glass back down on the desk with a shake of her head. It was good vodka.

He watched her. Stroking his arm, from his wrist to his elbow, she cupped his upper arm and pulled him back down to the mattress, beside her. "She isn't going to believe it. She's a smart girl." Then, placing her finger on his lips, she leaned close, noses almost touching, to meet his gaze. "Look, it's after midnight. She's had a very busy day. Lots happened. She is probably asleep. Didn't hear a thing."

Mitch didn't look at all convinced. So Jamie did the only thing she could. She kissed him again and again. Her soft lips urged him to believe her. Pulling his bottom lip between her teeth, she nibbled playfully at his mouth, dipping her tongue within and meeting his own. In moments, she had him panting once again. Her own whimpers weren't far behind.

Growling, whether in appreciation or frustration she wasn't sure, he wrapped his arms over her back, sneaking a hand under her waistband. His palm splayed over her ass, claiming her. He hauled her closer to him, pulling his lips from hers to bite his way across her jaw to the sensitive skin under her ear.

His hot breath tickled the inner whorls of her ear. "You know, the last time we did this in a plane…"

Shifting the hand pressed between them down the flat of his stomach, she smoothed the skin over his hip bones. She pinched him hard in the tender flesh above his hips. He yelped. "Don't even think it," she warned.

He leaned back enough to cock an eyebrow scornfully at her, "And to think, 'I found the cats' really is the best pickup line I have."

Grinning, more than a little bit naughty, Jamie pulled her trapped arm free and reached over her head. She slammed a hand across the front of the small stereo sitting on the shelf above the bed. Immediately, the loud pumping chords of Soundgarden's Hands All Over filled the room. Taking him by surprise, she grabbed him in a bear hug and rolling with all her weight, shoved them both to the floor. They landed with a thud. Mitch smirked, lifting his weight off her just a bit. She read the desire in his eyes. She liked him on top, too.

"Was that really necessary? I know the bed isn't the best, but it's got to be better than-"

"Shut up, Mitch. Your daughter might be listening…"

* * *

Clem felt the slight shudder of the floor beneath her. She was sitting with her back against the side of the bed, her feet braced against the bottom drawer of the desk on the opposite wall. In her lap, she held a tablet. Beside her, Henry thumped his tail three times, his head cocked to the side, staring at the wall behind her.

It was the second time in the last ten minutes he'd picked his head up from against her leg and looked at the wall.

She paused the movie. Easing the sound-dampening headphones Dariela had given her off, she shook her head. Wow. How in the world could anyone sleep with that awful music playing? She glanced at the clock over the door. It was well after midnight. Standing, she told Henry to stay as she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the narrow hall.

The music blared from the room beside hers. Her dad's room. She covered the six feet to his door and knocked, not expecting anyone inside to be able to hear it over the racket. She wasn't surprised when he didn't answer. Taking hold of the handle, she slid the door open.

"Dad?"

* * *

Logan sat up on the couch. He had a throbbing headache. Eyeing the half empty bottle of scotch sitting on the coffee table, there was no guessing at why. He'd bared his heart and soul to Jamie and still she'd turned him down. She was right, he was Edward. He had always been.

He reached again for the bottle. The world tilted and for a moment he panicked the plane was crashing. But no, it wasn't the plane, it was him. He crashed to the floor with a muffled curse, face first. Gathering his arms and legs beneath him, pushing himself to his hands, he groaned. God, he was sore. Tired and sore. The wound on his leg still ached. The painkillers he'd managed to secure from the doctor - _Dr. Mitch Morgan_ \- before the man had shoved past him and back into Jaime's embrace, were beginning to wear out. He scoffed at the brush off, neither of them one hundred percent on board with forgiving him though they had both expressed their gratitude for helping to find Clem. Since he was still on the plane and not abandoned on Pangaea with the hybrids, he counted that as a win. He would rub off on them. Eventually.

Then, the scream. He wasn't a virgin. Sure, it had been a while, but he was a red-blooded male. He would recognize that sound anywhere. Someone was having some fun. He groaned again. Please, please, he begged. He didn't want to hear Jamie coming. He clamped his palms over his ears, praying he was dreaming.

No such luck.

Bile and scotch rose in his throat, threatening to make a reappearance. He climbed shakily to his feet. With undue caution and with a hurried slowness, he weaved side to side on his way to the bathroom. Passing the girl's - Clem's - room, he peeked around the corner of her bedroom door. She hadn't quite pulled it all the way shut. Inside, he was pleased to note, she was fully occupied in a movie, a pair of expensive headphones snug on her head.

At least the dead-beat had had the decency to protect his child from the horrors Logan just had seared in his mind. No kid needed to see her parent naked. Or having sex. Or, God forbid, both. Let alone hear it.

Shuffling past, he fell into the bathroom, draped over the toilet and upheaved like a professional. He passed out. Drool and spittle clinging to his lips.

A few minutes later, he woke up, disoriented, staring at the base of the toilet. He still had a headache, but the throbbing had lessened. However, the smell of scotchy-vomit clung to him, causing him to retch another time. At last, his stomach was empty. Standing over the sink, he rinsed his mouth and scrubbed a wet hand over his face. He knew better than to drink so much. Especially hard liquor. Would he never learn?

He did, however, feel better at the moment. A good round of vomiting was always the best preventative for alcohol poisoning. Opening the bathroom door, he stepped out into the hallway. The instant the music blared to life, he cringed. Well, he had felt better. His stomach growled and throat constricted as another wave of nausea said hello.

Shoving the bubble back down with a painful swallow, he slammed the door behind him. He hated this music. It reminded him of his foster brother. An ugly memory. A decade older than him, the boy had been nothing but trouble. Always forcing him to do his errands. His illegal errands. Logan wished he'd had the nerve back then to stand up to him, to him and to all his other bullies. He smirked. If wishes were horses… Logan shook his head. He remembered his mother saying that to him when he was younger. Before she'd gone away. Before she'd left him with his "father" and that man's version of "child rearing."

Ahead of him, he saw Clem open her door and walk to her father's door. She didn't see him. He watched her knock. No one answered. He took another step closer, ready to tell her to go back to bed, that no one was going to answer. Maybe even lie to her and tell her that Mitch was asleep.

Her fingers curled around the handle. She slid the door open slightly - just enough for Logan to get a glimpse of bare and tangled limbs stretched across the floor from his opposing angle - and said, "Dad?" Logan, the reluctant hero, returned in a blaze of morality. He stopped her hand, placing his over hers, and slowly eased the door back. He felt more than heard it click into place. Just for good measure, he casually flipped the lock.

"Clem, right?" He smiled, all innocence. He hoped she didn't recoil at his breath.

She eyed him cautiously. "Yes. You're Logan?"

He nodded. "I saw you have a movie?" It wasn't the most awesome change in conversation, nor the smoothest, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Dariela gave it to me." She leaned closer to Logan, standing on her tiptoes to try and whisper conspiratorially in his ear. "I think she might have stolen it from the safe zone's library."

He laughed. Sounded like something the Ranger would do. "What is it?"

"Babe."

"Never seen it. Any good?"

She shrugged as only a pre-teen could. "Kinda. Got a talking pig and some sheep."

Not at all the kind of movie he enjoyed. "Well, why don't we go downstairs and watch it. With all that racket blaring, none of us are going to get any sleep anyways."

The girl giggled. As she slipped back to her room, he grinned. A hero again. Then, he frowned. What the hell was he thinking? This nightmare would only get worse watching some kid flick with a hangover.


End file.
